The Color of Transformation
by evening spirit
Summary: John fell in love with Clarice even before he met her. Pre-Series.
1. Chapter 1

**The Color of Transformation**

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 **Summary:** John fell in love with Clarice even before he met her. Pre-Series.

 **A/N:** The story was posted on AO3 a while ago, but I figured, why not x-post it here as well. Enjoy!

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 **Chapter One**

Distant rumble of raindrops hitting the roof carried through the open spaces of the bank. It was a constant, unrelenting background for hushed conversations, clanking of pans in the galley, packs being lifted, furniture moved, rhythmic pulsing in someone's earphones, car parking outside and the door being slammed shut, Sage clicking on her keyboard, boots on the stairs, artificial voices on police scanners, beeping, louder conversations, laughter, wooden blocks falling followed by a curse word, someone running – kids maybe, conversations, clanking, thumping, words, beeping, curse, laughter, pulsing, voices…

John sighed and rubbed his temples. He didn't have to listen in on everything that was happening in the headquarters. They had people who were tasked with taking care of basic needs of those who were passing through, they had people to coordinate supplies or errands or security. He had to make sure all those goals wouldn't collide with each other, or that none were forgotten, but he didn't need to worry about every smallest detail.

He needed to rest.

The map in front of him blurred at times, bills wouldn't add up and someone put some odd items into the inventory. Or maybe the letters danced in front of his eyes? Unicorn fodder? What was that about?

"John?" Sage appeared before his desk out of thin air. Or maybe he drifted off after all? "Something strange is happening." She clenched and unclenched her fists. "The scanners are buzzing."

John stood up, thud of blood in his ears rivaling with the hum of the rain for a few seconds. When the wave of dizziness passed, he followed Sage downstairs.

"Be advised," a disembodied voice announced, "mutant fugitive spotted at Grand and Seventeenth."

"All units converge in the area. "

"Thirteen-twelve responding. Two blocks away."

"What the hell happened?" John leaned on Sage's desk and watched her wriggle her hands.

"I'm not sure, but it looks like someone escaped from the Detention Center."

"Someone? On their own? Without help from the outside?" John's first worry was that some other mutants operated in town, without them knowing. Small hair at the back of his neck prickled at the possibility – Brotherhood was gone, just like the X-men, but their sympathisers were rumored to still exist. The Underground had enough to worry about as it was, without the more radical mutant factions sticking their heads from under the mud. That question had to be answered first, then they might try to consider if it was at all possible to escape from Detention Center without aid.

"No. Yes. It looks like she was alone." Sage had the answer already. She shrugged at John's inquiring gaze. "That's what I gathered from their panic, at least. Frankly, the probability of escape from Detention Center is, uh, two percent. Based on our previous attempts and what we surmise about their inside security measures of course, not on actual knowledge of…"

"I know all that." John cut in and squeezed the bridge of his nose in hope that the pressure would release the tension building behind his eyes.

Marcos and Lorna were making love in the room two doors down, that's what this rhythmic thumping was all about, he realized out of the blue.

"How did she escape?" he sighed.

"Earlier, they were saying something like… Whooosh," Sage spread her fingers in a gesture imitating a small explosion, "and she was gone." John squinted at her sideways. She shrugged. "Just repeating what I heard."

Whatever the girl's power was, it looked interesting. And maybe, just maybe, it proved she was not affiliated with anyone outside of Underground Network. Maybe. Nevertheless, they needed to get to her first, get her here, question her. They needed to find her and he was the tracker, of course.

And then, just like that, he saw her.

The petite catlike girl with purple hair and bright green eyes. She raised her hands and something sparkled between her fingers. A ball of purple energy that spread into an average-size wavy pancake and then the vision burst, leaving behind a stabbing ache in his right temple.

"Are you okay?" Sage asked.

John's visions – the ability to see into the near future or past – were usually vague, pale, not as filled with color as this one. And they concerned people that were near, or ones that he specifically focused on. Something random like this? It wasn't completely unheard of, but always left him slightly off kilter.

"We have to find her," he said and marched toward Marcos' and Lorna's quarters.

They just finished their lovemaking, at least. He raised his hand to bang on the door and restrained the urge at the last moment. Knocked lightly but with enough punch that it translated into an angry thud. Had he actually given it his full intent, the door would probably crack into toothpicks.

"Marcos, Lorna, need you in the Ops right away!" At least he could yell without causing any damage.

Before they came, he focused on the fugitive again and found her with surprising ease. Not where she was, exactly, but how she was. Terrified and pissed off at the same time. That thing she did to escape – her mutant ability – required effort. She was obviously not trained, had no discipline in using her gift, only a natural raw urge, borne out of primeval fear and nothing else.

Her determination gave her strength though and John remembered his own early days using his powers. He had been like that too, all over the place. He hadn't found a true understanding – and hadn't reached his true potential – until meeting Professor X and his protégés, until becoming one.

The catlike girl deserved the same. All mutants did, John thought, every single one of them who passed through this building, whom he helped to train, but... But truth be told there was something else about this girl. For some reason his desire to find her and bring her here felt more like a desperate necessity, than thoughts of a responsible leader. John rolled his shoulders, hoping to shake off the eerie feeling the girl gave him.

Marcos came in before Lorna, fastening the last buttons on his shirt. "How could she escape without anyone helping her?" Was his first question, as Sage explained the situation. Same as John's. So many years running this operation together made them think in sync, it shouldn't be surprising at this point.

John had already given it some thought, though.

"If they were helping her," he said, "they wouldn't have left her on her own. They'd have caught up with her by now. Most likely anyway. Whether they are or not, we have to get to her. If it was someone..." he made a significant pause, that said more about whom he suspected than words would, "it's best if we find out about it sooner rather than later. If she did it on her own..."

"...it's an interesting power to have, and we should have her on our side." Lorna finished his thought.

John turned to her, struck by a sudden realization.

Lorna took a step back. "What?"

He could faintly hear a very, very rapid heartbeat coming from inside her. From down low at the bottom of her abdomen.

Oh, no.

"John! What?"

Right. She had no idea yet.

John shook his head. "Be ready to roll out in five."

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t.b.c.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Color of Transformation**

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 **Chapter Two**

The girl with purple hair and bright green eyes was not an easy one to track. One moment John was sure they were headed toward her and then something flickered, clicked and he sensed her elsewhere.

He stopped the car.

"Don't tell me you lost her," Lorna chuckled, watching his face intently.

He didn't dignify her jab with a response, instead he stepped out of the car, barely registering cold rain streaming down his arms. Physical discomforts stopped bothering him a long time ago. The beating of that second heart inside Lorna was far more distracting; John was going to have to get used to it.

Should he tell her about it? Or should he leave it to her to find out in a... natural way. He wondered briefly, then shook his head to get rid of this unnecessary thought. At least his headache abated somewhat once he was out in the open and breathing fresh air. Sitting coped up over the papers, inside a dusty building – that didn't agree with him at all.

He crouched and touched the pavement. He had to focus; they'd been driving around town for almost an hour now and he could almost see the petite fugitive, almost all the time. Hiding, running, scared and cold in the rain. But directions were in complete disarray. North, then East, then North again. She was jumping from one location to another.

Perhaps it was because of that unusual method she used to escape from Detention Center. If it was the case, he had to adjust his way of tracking to her way of transportation. Speed didn't matter, neither did assumed bearing. Only intent.

Again he experienced a glimpse of that eerie sensation the girl was giving him and with it came profound longing. To meet her, to see her with his own eyes, not just through a vision.

He would die for a second of contact, of being able to touch her and see what this vibrant force would do to him.

This was not normal.

John squeezed his eyes shut. Damn, this was not about him and his freakish urges; this was about the Underground. About them finding out if she was in any way connected to the mutants who caused the friction between their kind and humans. And if not, they maybe needed her unique power for the good of the organization. If she would agree to work with them, in the first place. This was why they were chasing her, not some vague – or very inense as it were – spark that might or might not have struck him. It only felt that way because he was overworked and overstressed. Must have.

Focus. Purple Girl, where are you? Where will you be? Only the intent matters. John zeroed in on what his foresight was telling him and... There! He saw in his mind a place where she would soon find herself. It was nowhere near her current location, but considering her odd ways of getting around, it was possible she'd be right there, and soon. A warehouse in Chosewood Park.

"Get in!" John was behind the wheel right away, Lorna and Marcos didn't waste any time either.

John's clairvoyance wasn't particularly strong and didn't allow him to see far into the future. They needed to hurry; their target might arrive at the site and escape it before they even got there by traditional means of driving a car – even if he drove it very fast. He pitched it into a park in the back alley and jumped out. Where to now? Was she here already?

He crouched and tried to calm his breathing. Concentrated on the rough texture of asphalt under his fingertips. He let it uncover another image. Running shoes, splashing water. Wavy pattern of strange energy and momentary relief. He exhaled from the bottom of his lungs and looked around.

"Getting anything?" Marcos came up behind him.

"Working on it."

Marcos and Lorna tried to distract John with some mild teasing, but that was easy to ignore. He was used to it and they were friends – making fun of one another came with the territory. He found his focus. He knew now, with absolute certainty, that the fugitive was near.

"Look!" Marcos noticed something. "There."

"Well, that's interesting." Lorna agreed and the tiny hairs at John's nape tingled with excited anticipation.

"Told'ya," he beamed despite himself.

Those were debris of a police lightbar and when John touched a piece, his fingers prickled with remnants of that strange energy that accompanied the purple-green woman. He focused on listening closer and... caught her rapid breathing coming from inside the building.

"She's there." He stood up and pointed at iron door secured with a padlock on a solid chan. "Inside." His heart lurched inside his chest, like expecting some important exam, but he forced himself to stay calm. He'd found his focus. He needed to hold onto it.

Breaking the chain and opening the door was not a piece of cake, but wasn't very hard either. Now that he knew what he was looking for, John was aware where exactly the fugitive was hiding – in the back office – and part of him wanted to go there immediately. He didn't. His rational mind and tactical instinct, honed over the years, took over. They were still in danger and he was much more useful on the lookout. He sent Marcos and Lorna to greet her first and turned in the opposite direction.

Standing face-to-face with a potentially life-altering entity had to wait.

They were in an abandoned store. Empty shelves colected dust for weeks or maybe months, some furniture lay scattered on the floor. Windows weren't broken at least and double glass door opened with only a minor squeak. John directed his attention to the distant sounds once more.

His mind stubborly returned to the girl, though, first taking in what was happening in the backroom. She threw something at Marcos. Of course, she was frightened, she had no idea they came to help her. At least he didn't spring himself on her, with a burden of some wild, unreasonable expectations.

"Are you with the police," she asked. "I can't go back." Her voice quivered.

Right, police. John was supposed to be on the lookout – he berated himself. Took a moment to relax, closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled and immersed himself in the sounds of the city night.

Police sirens were still at a distance, but they stood out against the lowered hum of traffic, sparse human voices and dogs barking. They were coming closer. At least ten cars approaching from West and South. They'd be here in just a couple of minutes.

John left the night outside, closed the door and hurried back to the office.

"Guys," he called out to Lorna and Marcos and was brought to a stop in the entrance.

He met her eyes.

They were green just like in his vision, hardened by experiences and vulnerable at the same time, distrusting and hopeful. This connection between them he had only assumed about – now hit him with full force.

"Trouble," he uttered to all of them, but wasn't entirely sure if he meant the police cars coming, or whatever was going to happen to him, because of this woman.

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.end

Thank you for reading.


End file.
